The Silver Chalice was alive with noise—merchants shouting, children laughing, footsteps echoing against stone. Yet as word of the Zaryth's heir's confrontation spread, the bustle drained into silence. People pressed in closer, curiosity and tension replacing the city's usual clamor.
Amidst the crowd, Dorian sneered openly, his gaze roaming over Meyra with lewd hunger. "Meyra, why are you so stubborn? You should be grateful I'm even interested in you. Otherwise, do you think anyone would marry a blind girl like you?"
Kaelvir shoved his way through the onlookers, his jaw tight as Dorian's words reached him. At last, he broke through the ring of bodies. Dorian stood tall with his guards at his back, smug as ever. Kaelvir's eyes narrowed—this was the same bastard from that night.
Then he looked toward Meyra, expecting outrage, pity—anything. But what he saw made his heart pound.
No… impossible. That's… her?
The blind girl he had once saved. Slowly, it sank in. Meyra is blind too… Saints, don't tell me… His heart raced as he recalled the fake name he'd used.
I'm screwed. If she recognizes my voice—damn it, who would've thought she was Meyra?
Meyra's calm, composed voice rose above the silence. "Young Master Dorian, you cannot force love or emotion. You may be willing, but I am not. So please—respect my decision."
Her poise earned murmurs of approval from the crowd.
"As for whether anyone would marry a blind person…" Meyra's tone was steady, sharp. "Thank you for your concern, but I am already engaged. So end this here, or your words will only spark needless rumors—for both of us."
Nods spread through the crowd, admiration swelling for her loyalty and wit. Dorian's sneer faltered. His eyes hardened, voice cold. "So you reject me for that crippled anomaly?"
A heavy silence fell. Everyone knew who he meant, but no one dared to utter the name. The Vedrak clan ruled as overlords of the city. Only the Zaryth clan could stand as equals.
This wasn't just a spat. It was a showdown.
Dorian leaned forward, voice mocking. "Blind you may be, but not deaf. Everyone knows he's never once come to see you since your betrothal. Tell me, why cling to someone who doesn't care?"
For the first time, whispers stirred with doubt. Meyra's calm mask remained, but her fingers tightened around her dress. One of her guards stepped forward, elemental aura flaring blue. "Young Miss, allow me to break his limbs and silence his tongue."
The power rolling off him proved his rank—third-level Body Ascendance Realm.
In response, Dorian's four guards advanced. Three bore flickering elemental force, the last cloaked in a pale red aura. The crowd gasped. Three were second-stage Dreamforged cultivators. Their leader was also a Body Ascendance Realm expert.
"The young miss is at a disadvantage…" one whispered.
Another shook his head. "Don't be foolish. Do you think either clan came without hidden trump cards? No one can predict the outcome."
Dorian smirked as the tension grew. "You can't win, Meyra. Not against me."
At his signal, his guards moved, elemental power dancing across their bodies. The leaders clashed first—red against blue, their auras spiraling into the sky, tearing at the air.
The second-stage fighters followed. Two wielded water, the third wind—swift and sharp. Before anyone could react, the wind cultivator blurred forward, bypassing Meyra's guard with ease. A sneer curved his lips as he reached for her.
But before his hand could touch her, a blur of crimson flame erupted between them. Nina, silent until now, stepped forward with a maniacal grin. Her fist blazed with fire as it slammed into the attacker.
The wind cultivator barely had time to register her speed. His defense shattered instantly. His eyes widened in horror. "You… you are—"
His words cut short as he was hurled across the square, crashing into a stall with bone-shaking force.
The world froze. Even the Body Ascendance cultivators halted mid-strike. Dust hung heavy, no one daring to breathe.
All eyes turned to Nina. Crimson aura roared around her as her savage smirk curled into disappointment. "For a second, I thought he'd last longer." Then she tilted her head toward Meyra, feigning concern. "Young Miss… did I hit too hard?"
Meyra couldn't see, but her senses caught every ripple of power. She didn't know whether to laugh or sigh.
"She's… she's a Body Ascendance Realm cultivator!" gasped someone in the crowd.
"So young! The Kaevor clan has such a genius—and as a maid?!"
Excitement surged, voices layering atop each other. Dorian's expression darkened to fury. He hadn't expected such strength at Meyra's side. If this continued, he'd be a laughingstock. His eyes flashed with murderous intent. He couldn't touch Meyra herself, but her maid… yes, he could strike her down and write it off as a duel of the younger generation.
His gaze flicked toward the void, giving a subtle nod.
Kaelvir, hidden among the crowd, caught it. His gut twisted. This scheming bastard is up to something. I need to help Meyra. But how? I haven't awakened yet…
A voice bloomed in his dream sea. Master, even without awakening, you can still fight as one.
His mind jolted. He murmured under his breath, "Nythra, this isn't the time for jokes. Is that really possible?"
Her chuckle danced in his head. Master, communicate with us mentally, not aloud, unless you wish the crowd to think you've gone mad.
Kaelvir's face darkened. She got me good…
Nythra continued, her tone shifting. Do you not recall the black and gold lightning Solune and I wielded in the Dreamscape? Because of your mutation, you can wield them—and more.
Kaelvir's heart leapt, confusion chasing excitement. "How?"
Leave it to us, Solune answered gently. We will engrain the method into your dream sea.
Nythra chimed in again, more serious this time. But Master—hide your identity. The city knows you've not awakened. If they see you wielding awakened power, questions will come that you cannot answer.
Their voices faded, leaving Kaelvir with racing thoughts. They're right. I must be careful.
"Thanks, girls," he whispered within.
Blending deeper into the crowd, he slipped away from Fay's line of sight. From a ruined stall, he snatched a black robe and pulled it over his shoulders. Lightning flickered faintly across his body—half illusion, half reality—barely visible, yet undeniable.
Elsewhere near the Chalice, a woman at a stall turned her head. Red-pink eyes gleamed, her smile deceptively gentle, her black-and-red robe disguising her presence. Yet when Kaelvir's lightning sparked, her gaze sharpened.
"What a strange aura…"
Back in the square, Meyra faced Dorian, her blindfold shading her smirk. "What a bastard. A boring performance…" Her lips curved wider. "Well, perhaps… not so boring after all."
Her body trembled—not with fear, but anticipation, a hunger to match Nina's.
As if answering her thrill, a shadow rippled into existence behind Nina. A dagger gleamed, striking straight for her ribs.
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